


Pups R Us

by darylfiend, xoPeapup



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, M/M, Nightmare, mention of kink and stuff, naughty boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 00:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16074179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darylfiend/pseuds/darylfiend, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoPeapup/pseuds/xoPeapup
Summary: Since a tornado killed the power in Darylfiend's neighborhood I am posting this for her :)  I didn't write any of it. All the credit for this beauty goes to her so please shower her with love and raisins <3And have a great Sunday lovely puppies!!!-love, Mim





	Pups R Us

**Author's Note:**

> Since a tornado killed the power in Darylfiend's neighborhood I am posting this for her :) I didn't write any of it. All the credit for this beauty goes to her so please shower her with love and raisins <3
> 
> And have a great Sunday lovely puppies!!!
> 
> -love, Mim

 

 

 

Daryl sniffed and scrunched up his nose, turning his body awkwardly because he was in complete shadow. Jesus’s phone felt unfamiliar in his hands, and seeing his own face in the reverse camera made him nervously smear a few strands of hair into a different position and attempt to find a prettier angle. He glanced at Paul, who didn’t look as ashamed as he should, for someone sitting in the bad boy chair. He mouthed a “thank-you”, holding his hands up with fingers curled into a heart shape, and so Daryl felt committed to the task, tapping the little red circle at the bottom of the screen and swallowing once as the image went out of focus before sharpening again.  
  
“Mornin’,” he said, not sure why he waited for a reply as though the camera would speak back to him and shrugging one shoulder, turning so that Paul was visible behind him. “Jesus can’t film.”  
  
Jesus covered his face in both hands, trying to hide the fact that he was giggling already. Daryl was too cute, trying to hold the phone steady with one hand while trying to read the note that Jesus had slipped to him. He cleared his throat and sniffed again, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink.  
  
There were a lot of words that didn’t sound like anything he wanted to say, and he could hear Negan wrapping up his morning routine at the bathroom sink over the sizzle of Olivia’s oat-cakes. They smelled good, and they were sweetened with banana and had blueberries inside, so he really didn’t want to get in trouble for interfering with Jesus’ punishment. He’d already had a close call when Negan woke up and saw him carrying Jesus, kicking and flailing in protest, out of the room. He smacked his lips and huffed a quick sigh.  
  
“He wants to show you the stuff he bought, but later.” He heard the laundry hamper and glanced towards the door nervously, then quickly tapped the square and hit the “next” button. He madly skipped past all the filters he normally agonized over, then touch the “done” button and set the phone face-down in the middle of the table, wondering how the video had ended up thirty-six seconds long.  
  
He sat down at the empty place-setting next to Negan’s, tucked the note under his butt, and a moment later Negan entered the kitchen, bringing with him a breeze of hot, moist air and cologne. His hair still looked slightly wet, but neatly combed, his clean skin aglow and dark eyes glinting at the sight of his boys greeting him with large eyes, full of awe.  
  
Daryl felt sweaty and naughty below him, and wished Jesus would get better at looking seriously sorry, because Negan definitely knew they were up to something, walking up to tickle his ear and lean in close. He took a long pause to smell Daryl’s hair before exhaling against bare skin. Daryl could hear a wolfish smile revealing exceptionally white teeth.  
  
“Do you want to say good morning?”  
  
Daryl felt his skin tingle at the fingertips skimming his hair and richly deep voice in his ear. He turned to brush his lips against a sharply-stubbled jaw.  
  
“G’mornin’.”  
  
Butterflies scampered to their hiding places inside his chest, so frenzied that no voice came out, just a fractured breath while his lips barely moved. His attention was torn between the naughty note under his butt and the strong tongue dipping between fine lips and flicking over clean teeth, following up with a much deeper kiss while kneading a tense neck through towel-damp hair.  
  
“Good morning to you, too.” Negan ruffled his hair. Olivia placed three plates of food around the table before hustling back to the kitchen to pour the coffee, trying her best to look like she hadn’t just witnessed some sort of bratty boy conspiracy.  
  
When Negan stood to appraise him, Paul ducked his head and stared down at his feet, not even daring to glance at the delicious spread of pancakes and berries. His stomach tightened and gurgled and felt twitchy and sick all at once. Negan approached him and grasped his chin, demanding eye contact. He pointedly looked to the clock on the wall, then back to Paul, his tone turning quiet and serious.  
  
“Do you have anything to say?”  
  
Paul stopped himself from responding too quickly, letting out a deep breath and letting the relief of Negan’s firm grip wash over him for a moment before meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry for waking you, sir. I won’t do it again. May I have your forgiveness?”  
  
Daryl watched Negan’s back as he dealt with Paul, quietly stuffing the small napkin-script into his mouth and beginning to chew.  
  
Negan hummed, caressing a sharp cheekbone and soft beard in thought, and addressed his puppy-boy without turning. “Daryl. Did he serve his sentence in good form?”  
  
Daryl’s eyes bulged, gagging down the sticky lump of paper and ink, nodding. “Mhm.”  
  
Negan didn’t move or speak until Daryl swallowed again and corrected himself, wheezing a little because it felt like the wad was stuck in his chest. “Yes.”  
  
He observed Paul maintaining his expert poker face for another minute, before resigning himself to the fact that whatever they clumsily tried to hide would probably surface within the hour. He patted the boy’s cheek not-so-gently.  
  
“Very good. You’re forgiven. You may join us for breakfast, wash the dishes, and then film your video, as promised.”  
  
Paul’s eyes lit up as a dazzling smile flashed over his features. He nuzzled the large hand and placed a fond kiss in its palm. “Thank you, Sir.”  
  
“You’re welcome.” Negan patted his head before taking his seat at the table, snapping his fingers and pointing to the empty spot for Jesus to pull up his chair. Daryl felt a little jealous as he watched the affectionate exchange, casting a mixed look to Paul while he shimmied into his seat. One of his butterflies felt a little bit sick because of the hard lump in his stomach, but he quickly forgot about it once he began dismantling his meal.  
  
  
  
After they finished, Paul cleared the table, washed and dried and put away every dish, wiped down every cabinet and countertop and swept the kitchen. Daryl toiled over a huge batch of poffins using both of their phones. Once he finished, Paul found Negan on the couch, setting up his laptop for a day of casual correspondence, and presented his best kneel for his approval. Daryl looked up and joined in eagerly, not wanting to be out-shone, kneeling at his side in perfect posture, with both phones clutched behind his back.  
  
It was too much for Negan to ignore, and far too distracting for him to get beyond opening his first email. A hint of a smirk moved his lips as he pretended to skim over lines of text.  
  
“Is everything clean?”  
  
Paul bounced on his heels as he shot to attention. “Yes, sir.”  
  
“Did you brush your teeth?”  
  
They glanced at each other, and Daryl shook his head.  
  
“Not yet, Sir.”  
  
“Once you are done, are you going to film nicely together, and let me work?”  
  
Daryl nodded eagerly, while Jesus shot him a look and nudged his elbow, shifting his weight and pressing down on a bare toenail with his fingertip, waiting for Negan to raise his brows and give his attention. “Sir, I was hoping you would appear in it, maybe. Just for a few minutes?” He shrunk slightly when Negan blinked several times as though he couldn’t believe his ears. “I got you something.”  
  
Daryl’s curiosity immediately ramped up five notches, wondering what Paul could have possibly found at a children’s toy store that Negan wouldn’t hate. He hoped it wasn’t a joke that would get them in trouble again.  
  
Negan couldn’t help feeling a little bit touched and a little bit annoyed, and wiggled his big toe with the smallest hint of a smile gathering the corners of his eyes.  
  
“Two minutes. And ten percent in royalties from all the traffic I’ll be bringing.”  
  
Paul grinned widely. “It’s an ad-free channel, sir.”  
  
Negan chuckled, mostly at the worried expression that crept over Daryl’s face, and offered him a raisin for his good behaviour.  
  
“I guess I won’t start planning my retirement just yet. Go.” He gently waved them off to retrieve the bags from his bedroom, and used the momentary peace to pull out his phone. He meant to continue correcting all of the inconsistencies that the previous day’s unplanned upgrade had forced upon him, before he noticed a fresh notification with a little Polaroid icon next to it that hadn’t been there before breakfast.  
  
  
  
Daryl knew something was off when they returned a moment later with rustling bags in each hand, to a tall and very stern-looking angry man looming.  
  
“Bags. On the couch.”  
  
Jesus kept a neutral face, almost plopping himself down along with his loot and nearly jumping off the cushion like it had burned his cheeks when Negan barked.  
  
“NOT the boys. Here.”  
  
He snapped harshly and motioned both of them to stand before him. Daryl’s butterflies scattered and bumped into one another as he took his place on the hard floor beside Jesus, who blushed so deeply he radiated heat. Daryl stared down at strong, statuesque feet with perfect nails, feeling the rock in his stomach grow. He didn’t need to look up to know Negan held his phone for them to see, playing the hideous video he had posted for Paul. He really didn’t want to see his own face again, barely comforted when Paul shifted so their shoulders touched snugly.  
  
Negan let it play out and then dimmed the screen, returning it to his pocket. “Is this how you spent your time-out?”  
  
Paul hung his head, both frustrated at how insignificant it was and sincerely regretting everything he had done since waking up. He could see that Daryl was on the verge of tears beside him.  
  
“I’m sorry, sir. I asked him to.”  
  
Daryl swallowed, feeling his shoulders relax slightly when a strong hand caressed his hair and tapped his jaw to lift his chin.  
  
“Clearly. And now I have to take even more time out of my day to correct you.”  
  
This time Daryl detected a hint of amusement, so he dared to glance up and see a very convincingly stony but not too scary man scrutinizing the boy to his left. He glanced toward the bulging shopping bags before peering through messy bangs to innocently state the obvious. “Din’ do nothin’ bad.”  
  
Negan tilted his head, pulling his phone out again and swiping and tapping a couple of times before turning it to around to show Daryl the precious screenshot he had already taken from Paul’s feed. “You didn’t do this?”  
  
Daryl shrunk down into the collar of his shirt a little, feeling heat crawling up to his ears and down to his belly when he saw his own face in terrible lighting. Still, he didn’t think he should be at fault for doing something Jesus had told him to, so he shook his head warily. “Wasn’t bad.”  
  
Negan chuckled, admiring the shot from the awkwardly adorable clip before placing the device face-down on the table. “No. The video wasn’t bad, but Paul had a time-out. Do you think he’ll learn anything if you sneak around making his mischief for him?”  
  
Daryl huffed, but closed his mouth again when Negan held up a finger, reminding him to think about his answer. He wavered on his feet, and pulled at his fingers for a few moments until he exhaled a quiet “no”.  
  
“Paul. Remind me again of the rules that let you stay here, in my home, with my boy.”  
  
He hung his head again, only slightly hopeful because he hadn’t broken the worst of them. “No drugs, no lies, no bullshit.”  
  
“And what am I smelling here?”  
  
“Bullshit, sir.”  
  
Negan’s lips pulled taut, his jaw set. “Exactly. It’s giving me a headache. Now I have to punish you again, when I could be coming up with far more entertaining ways to spend time with my boys. It’s a good thing I only have the two of you to deal with, isn’t it?”  
  
Paul looked up with large eyes. “It is? Does your head hurt, sir? I’m so sorry, Sir. Let me get your pills.”  
  
Negan stopped him from turning, digging two fingers into his clavicle. “No. I have a better idea. You may brick up that door for me, before more criminals sneak in to make things worse.”  
  
Jesus blinked, having no idea where he’d even start with such a project, or how Negan would receive his shipments of olives and peanuts. He had thought Negan had just been joking about that idea the first time he’d brought it up. “But—sir? I don’t know how.”  
  
“That’s why Daryl will be helping you. Right, boy?”  
  
Daryl gawked at Negan, abruptly glaring at Jesus and back up at his owner. He huffed and ducked the hand that ghosted over his hair, some of his butterflies turning into angry bees. He was far too minty fresh to be blamed for Jesus’ silly computer show. “Was his idea!”  
  
“Hey.” Negan lowered his voice, snapping forcefully and commanding Daryl’s attention.  
  
Jesus swallowed, squeezing Daryl’s hand when he saw his chin tremble but not daring to interject.  
  
“Paul had a punishment. He didn’t complete it properly, and now he must start again. You were just trying to help him out the first time, right?”  
  
Negan’s face held no disappointment or anger, and Daryl felt the angry fluttering in his chest calm slightly. He nodded, tightening his grasp on Paul’s hand, even though their palms were equally hot and nervously sweaty. “Yeah,” he mumbled, this time accepting the caress that tucked a lock of hair behind his ear.  
  
“Right. And since you’re such a handy puppy, this time you can help him do something useful, without being sneaky about it. Right?”  
  
Daryl thought about it a moment. If he had to wait for Paul to watch a hundred YouTube tutorials about how to slap some bricks together with mud in-between, it would be weeks before he could see what Paul had bought for Negan. He nudged the tip of his knuckle against soft denim that he was certain smelled like washing powder and tall angry man. “Okay.”  
  
Negan patted Jesus’s cheek as well. “Good. Get into some fucking shoes. Five minutes!”  
  
  
  
Twenty minutes later, Jesus was beginning to sweat, overheated and bored and already hungry again, crammed between Daryl and Negan on the front bench of a big green army truck. He leaned into the hard shoulder that wasn’t busy steering, inhaling the otherworldly scent of cologne and Daddy Armpit for relief.  
  
Daryl’s nervous grip felt slippery on the big steering wheel while he carefully manoeuvred through the parking lot until he found a big enough clump of empty spots to position the rumbling beast he commanded. The big utilitarian steering wheel and gear shift felt good and solid in his hands, but Daryl was still a little nervous that he would scrape against something, because he was used to riding a bike, and the last time he’d driven Merle’s truck had been many, many years ago, when he was only slightly less intoxicated than his older brother, so he didn’t remember much.  
  
He still earned a low hum of approval when he checked all three of his mirrors for a final time and cut the ignition, but Negan didn’t look up from the stapled bundle of papers he’d printed out while his boys had scrambled to dress in their Friday best for all the big rugged carpenter-men at the home improvement store.  
  
"Keeping that awesome vintage patina fucking flawless? I like that." Negan held his wallet out for Daryl to take, who was wiping his hands on his thighs, and jerked it up and away when Paul reached for it.  
  
"No. Rules are as follows;” he sighed, demanding eye contact before he continued. “Daryl. Only the materials you need. No fucking palm trees or inflatable hot tubs,” he pinned his glare on Jesus, “no cart rides, and no, we don’t need any chains or tractors or rainbow light-bulbs or whatever the fuck else you become infatuated with in the next ten minutes. You can order those online. You go in, you listen to Daryl, you beat the mother-loving fuck out of anyone who touches him, and you call me immediately if you need help. Then, you come straight back here before I’m cooked alive."  
  
He waited for Daryl to lock eyes and give him a concerned nod before releasing the leather parcel into his grip. Paul seemed in a rush to get out of the stifling vehicle, but Daryl paused after opening the driver’s-side door, blocking his path.  
  
“What will you do?"  
  
Negan cranked his window open, already hating the sun’s flames baking the asphalt beneath them, and pulled out his reading glasses, wiping some sweat from his eyes before adjusting them snugly. "I will wait here, and make some important calls, with my notifications on full blast, so no selfies, no creep-shots, and no Pokey-mon. Go."  
  
  
  
Inside, they made good time, heading straight for the brick yard with one bag of mortar mix on a flat cart, when Daryl noticed Jesus slow down, gazing into the aisle full of crystal chandeliers. He saw a hand instinctively reaching for the phone in his back pocket, grabbed his wrist with an angry grunt, and pulled him along through the automatic sliding doors before the plump girl in the apron approaching them had a chance to ask if they needed any help. If they worked fast, they could be back at the factory in moments, well before Negan was steamed alive.  
  
  
  
It was a grand total of 28 minutes spent loading the cart, paying, loading the truck and getting home, with the largest chunk of time spent deliberating over whether Negan would like red bricks, or the black ones. Once they had Negan back in his comfortably cool office at the factory, Daryl permitted Jesus to resume with his lacklustre pace while he did most of the heavy work of mixing the mortar in a large mixing tub and moving the crates that Jesus loaded from the back of the truck to the back door.  
  
Daryl scrubbed the door and frame as best he could, hosed the whole entrance down, and sat on one of the crates to wait for Jesus to join. He had gone to change clothes, and was taking a long time. He stared at the narrowing crack of shadow cast over their work area, felt the heat rising as noon approached, and finally pulled out his phone to see if maybe Paul was logged into the pokemon app. Once it loaded, he saw his avatar a couple pixels away from his own, and got up to march angrily to his bedroom. He found the door ajar, and stopped in his tracks at the unexpected sight of a buck naked man sprawled face-down in bed, with a pair of sweat pants for a pillow and a phone still wedged in his hand, screen-down on the comforter.  
  
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to towel-whip his bare butt to wake him or sneak into Negan’s office to kneel. He didn’t want to change the door, and he didn’t want to open any silly presents, but part of him wanted to impress them both by getting everything done super fast so that he could make enough blue crosses to go swimming.  
  
Maybe he could do it all himself, he thought, or bribe Jesus with another mark on his kitten paper.  
  
He walked to the bed and stared at a bare foot, tempted to touch it, then as quietly as possible he let a palm sink into the mattress, and crept into the empty space next to him to study his sleeping face. He watched the slow rise and fall of his shoulder, saw movement behind closed eyelids, and didn’t want to wake him so much as spare him from being woken if Negan would find him avoiding his errand. His lips formed the words “wake up” but no sound came out. He succeeded in whispering on the second try, sniffed and waited, then shifted his weight to an elbow, moving forward to touch a soft cheek with the tip of his nose, earning a started exhale and strained grunt as Paul tensed and stretched himself awake.  
  
“Mmm, sweaty puppy smell,” Paul moaned and snuggled closer to the clothed man, nudging a sweaty neck with his lips and squeezing a knee between Daryl’s legs, wedging them apart and slotting their thighs together for a good-morning kiss-and-grind with the angel that appeared in his bed.  
  
Daryl grunted, teeth clashing awkwardly as he turned away from the kiss, butting his forehead against Paul’s and shutting his eyes tightly when he felt bare limbs snaking against his body. “S’ gettin’ hot.”  
  
“It is,” he smirked, kissing Daryl’s jaw and sneaking a hand beneath his shirt before his arm was grabbed again with a frustrated huff.  
  
“Nah. Outside.” Daryl looked exceptionally stern despite the nuisance jabbing him in the pelvis.  
  
“Right.” Paul pulled back and rubbed his eyes, noticing the specks of mortar up Daryl’s arms and brick dust coating his hands, stirring himself up from his lazy haze to find his crumpled paint-splattered joggers beneath his head and sitting up to sort his legs into the holes.  
  
“What time is it?”  
  
“Sure’s hell ain’t time to nap,” Daryl muttered, adjusting his pants as he stood. He poked around the messy room until he found a worn t-shirt crumpled on the floor of Paul’s closet with splatters that matched the paint on his walls and pants. He tossed it directly at his face to stop him from checking his phone again, and left him to sort himself out, hoping the mortar hadn’t already begun to set.  
  
  
  
“Like this?” Jesus studied his handiwork, not sure if it was as good as he thought it looked, but once he scraped off the excess it looked like an actual row of bricks on a real wall that would be sitting there for years, and he couldn’t help but feel a little proud of how the black bricks looked in stark contrast to the pale grey mortar, because Negan had complimented their choice.  
  
Daryl opened a gluten-free, non-alcoholic beer for Jesus. They still had an hour before lunch, but Negan had caught them hard at work and rewarded him with some spit and a pair of cold drinks. He flicked a few sweaty strands from his eyes and scratched his jaw against his shoulder as he held it out, waiting for Jesus to notice and take it. Eventually he touched the cold bottle to his neck, causing him to jump and laugh and stand aside so Daryl could take a closer look.  
  
Paul had actually done an entire row on his own while Daryl cut some more bricks in half to stagger the rows. It was a little uneven but not enough to have to re-do it, unlike some of the last ones he had tried, so Daryl nodded quickly, giving him a genuine smile and extending his own bottle in a casual toast.  
  
“Yep. ‘S a lot better. Think you can do the rest?”  
  
Paul clinked his bottle against Daryl’s, beaming. He shook his head as he gulped half of it down in one breath, relishing in the cold refreshment. “What would be the fun in that? We should take turns, so I can take some pictures for Daddy of puppy’s pretty arms at work.”  
  
Daryl shrugged, not sure about the photos, but he thought that might give him the chance to straighten out any mistakes Paul would make. “‘Kay.”  
  
  
  
If Daryl had known Jesus would be so annoying about it, he would have just left him to finish. Each row seemed to take longer than the last. First Jesus had stopped everything so that he could write secret messages on the door in black marker, and then he wanted Daryl to leave one too, but instead of working on his row while Daryl drew a puppy, he took more pictures. Then he went to tinkle and returned with berries and more markers, and by the time he was complaining about the direct sun cooking him alive they were only halfway done.  
  
“Daryl?”  
  
“Huh.” He wiped more sweat from his eyes, really wanting to finish one last row while Paul was eating berries.  
  
“What’ll you do when Merle gets out?”  
  
Daryl shrugged another drop of sweat off his jaw, sandwiching more mud in with another block. He hadn’t really thought about what he’d do first, he just kind of pictured them playing cards in the club, going for bike rides, and Merle going back to his old hang-outs. He knew that Merle was finally taking some correspondence courses, but he’d still always imagined him selling crack to crack-heads so that he could buy more crack. It would be nice if he didn’t have to worry about Merle making Negan angry by bringing crack to his house, or trying to fight him for fucking Jesus.  
  
Jesus ignored the silence, fishing for another question while he flung a yucky berry over the fence and stuffed the rest into his mouth. He shouldered back in on the doorway, popping the cap off a marker to start another secret note.  
  
“Think you’ll ever bring me along to visit him?”  
  
Daryl grunted, wincing at the thought of that, having difficulty squeezing the last brick into the doorway because the mortar was starting to get a little stiff. He doesn’t like the ideas of what Merle might call Jesus if he saw someone so pretty walking in with him. Jesus had been to the trial, and that was already more than he ever wanted him to hear about his family, so he shrugged again, chewing his lip as he stepped back to check the level on the last three rows. They needed time to set before they added any more.  
  
“Dunno. He’s rude. You’d prob’ly try to fight him.”  
  
Jesus laughed, his whole head tilting back. “Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with worse closet-cases than him before.” He held his marker out for Daryl, who took it awkwardly and decided he could maybe try to draw a kitten while he thought about Merle having a boyfriend and trying not to smile. He just couldn’t picture it, because Merle had loved tits so much. Maybe he would like some of the women who came to tell jokes and sing at the Eagle on Thursdays, who were secretly men in shocking clothes and makeup. Some of them had very nice breasts. It took a while for him to finish, and he assumed Paul was on his phone while he drew a sun with a crown and sunglasses shining over the cat and puppy, but when he finished and looked down to where he sat, he saw him resting against the concrete and staring at nothing. He put the cap back on the marker and handed it back to him.  
  
“Wouldn’ like it in there.”  
  
Big green eyes smiled up at him, one squinted against the harsh light. “Wouldn’t hate it, either. Not with you there. Besides, he’s pretty hot, he could threaten to rip my spine out and I’d probably want to touch myself,” he grinned, popping the cap off for one more message.  
  
“Christ,” Daryl shook his head, looking entirely disgusted while scraping the rest of the mortar into an empty bag before it hardened completely in the bucket.  
  
“C’mon, I’m probably totally his type.”  
  
“Jesus! Shuddup,” Daryl balked, trowel still loaded when he got up to shove Jesus and saw what he had written.  
  
Daryl hadn’t meant for Negan to catch him whipping a blob of mud at Jesus’ legs for writing “daddy fucked jesus here.”  He still felt very guilty about it, even though Negan had smiled when calling him a naughty puppy very quietly and close to his ear, before ordering them inside to wash up for lunch.  
  
He hadn’t meant to talk back when he was told to take a bath and nap afterwards, either, and he definitely hadn’t wanted any silly tears to come out as he stood in the corner while a full tub of green-smelling water waited for him to finish his time out in the next room.  
  
He hadn’t meant to get his phone wet either, but it seemed very important at the time to ask Negan to take a bath with them, because Jesus was making him very horny while making him squeaky clean and he wanted permission to cum.  
  
In bed, he found it impossible to fall asleep, no matter how good the cloud-like bedding smelled, or how badly his grumpy, aching mind probably needed it. His phone already slept in a bed of dry rice, so he had no comforting words to look at, only a crumpled black glove to hold and plug in his bum to keep Paul’s fingers out, even though Paul was fast asleep, and his dick twitched unfairly every time he turned over and felt it shift inside of him.  
  
Eventually he dozed to fitful dreams of endless prison corridors behind an unlocked gate, searching for Merle’s cell, finding it bricked up from the inside, so that he had to punch through the bars, and push the wall down like a loose pile of wet clay, with hair and blood and teeth in it. He tried uselessly to phone Negan, or to get Jesus’ attention, who was live on instagram, and couldn’t see Daryl’s message in the sea of hearts from his followers, but he was panicking and couldn’t type properly at all, and then he was inside the cell, being eaten alive, which was impossible, and he wished that Paul would wake him up even though he couldn’t scream. He tried to shake himself awake, angry that he couldn’t move, and as if sent by angels, he heard Tiger come into the room, heard his nails clicking across the floor, felt a warm tongue on his face and sobbed in relief when the spell broke, digging his hands into thick fur and planting a grateful kiss on his snout.  
  
“Good boy,” he whispered against a fuzzy cheek, and added a quiet “thank you,” with another nose-kiss, before pointing to the floor so that he would lie down. When he turned over, blue-green eyes watched him from behind a pillow.  
  
“Did you have a bad dream?” Paul murmured sleepily. Daryl just stared without an answer, so he wriggled closer and wrapped his arms around him until they were comfortably entangled. “Do you need anything?”  
  
Daryl cleared his throat and shook his head, although his stomach felt like some of the butterflies were dead. He kind of wanted to throw up.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Paul said quietly.  
  
Daryl shrugged one shoulder, and felt Paul kiss the back of it.  
  
“I tried to be quiet, I swear. I’ll finish it by supper. I promise.”  
  
Daryl snorted. “Hja, right.” Paul’s hand on his stomach felt good, like he knew just where it ached and wanted to soothe it, even though it didn’t really help much.  
  
“I was so excited this morning. I woke up at three, and couldn’t get back to sleep. It felt like Christmas morning or something.”  
  
Daryl sniffed. He remembered Christmas morning, and Paul had almost slept in until noon. “Bull.” He was pinched, and elbowed the man spooning him.  
  
“It’s true! I really am sorry, though. I know I’m too much sometimes,” he mumbled against a broad back in a threadbare sleep shirt.  
  
That wasn’t true. Paul was a lot, but it was never a lot of anything bad. “Better’n me. Didn’t have to get me nothin’.”  
  
“But you’re so fun to shop for! I had to,” he wiggled excitedly. “It’s not even that. I don’t know, when I saw the closing signs, it just kind of hit me. You don’t usually get the chance to say goodbye. Things can seem great, and then suddenly they’re gone, you know? I had the chance to shop there one last time, and to do something nice for the people I care about. It still wasn’t an excuse to be inconsiderate.”  
  
“Done worse,” Daryl mumbled, because it was true, and Jesus kissed his shoulder again, firmly, before resting the side of his face against his broad back and hugging him tighter.  
  
“We just act out differently,” he murmured, holding Daryl for a long pause. “It did kind of scare me when you hit him.”  
  
Daryl immediately felt all of the warmth and joy drain from his body, the hard lump in his stomach growing to the size of a baseball.  
  
Paul felt him tense in his arms, and knew he had said too much, immediately feeling so guilty. “I’m sorry, I know you felt awful about it, and I don’t blame you for it. That’s just how you were taught to react, right?”  
  
Daryl felt hot tears sting his eyes unexpectedly. “S’ no excuse,” he choked.  
  
“No, but it takes time to learn. You had to act tough to survive. I had to make people like me. It’s hard to get used to being cared for, and having to figure out how to deal with those fears without hurting anyone.”  
  
“Mh.” Daryl thought he kind of understood, but he still didn’t like to think about what he was saying. Jesus was being punished for being too good, while he was praised, despite being a criminal with guts full of lies, and everything about it felt wrong and bad. His heart sped up a bit, like the dead butterflies were coming back to life, and they wanted out. He felt weightless and absent as he rushed out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. Paul watched him leave with wide eyes before he emptied his stomach into the bowl.  
  
  
  
He felt much better after brushing his teeth, curled up on the floor in front of the couch, hiding his face against Negan’s inner thigh, a safe hand resting on silky hair, the gentle roar of the kettle coming to a boil the only sound occupying their space.  
  
“He had a nightmare,” Jesus said quietly, bringing his red cup and placing it on the table, full of steaming peppermint tea. Negan thanked him, and Jesus kissed his cheek before quietly leaving the room.  
  
“Is that true?”  
  
Daryl couldn’t nod, so he spoke quietly against warm denim. “Yes.”  
  
“Is that why you were sick?”  
  
Daryl thought for a long moment, because that was often the case, but this dream wasn’t so bad, and Tiger had rescued him. He let out a worried exhale after a long pause. “No.”  
  
Negan’s hand paused. He spread his knees a little further, making room to smooth a palm down against Daryl’s cheek to gently encourage eye contact. “Do you need to see doctor?”  
  
Guilty eyes avoided his, and Daryl rapidly shook his head. Negan tilted his head. “What made you ill?”  
  
Daryl chewed the inside of his lip nervously, shrugging one shoulder and hiding his face against the cushion. “Ate somethin’ bad.”  
  
Negan kept his voice low and steady, even though his mind went straight to dangerous things like dishwasher soap and hallucinogenic plants. He tilted Daryl’s chin up again, thumbing his cheek when he was sure his pupils were a normal size. “What did you eat.”  
  
“Paper towel,” he gestured toward the kitchen. “Jesus wrote on it.”  
  
Negan blinked, slowly bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I see. Does it still hurt?”  
  
Daryl shook his head. He really felt mostly better just knowing it wasn’t hiding inside of him anymore. “No.”  
  
“Do you promise not to eat paper or ink or anything else that might be considered evidence of naughty boys ever again?” Negan stirred the tea diffuser through the water in the red cup, and drank from it to check the temperature.  
  
Daryl nodded. “Yes.” He searched stern eyes, before adding a gentle “Sir.”  
  
“Good. Drink.”  He held the cup to pink lips and took it away again after several big gulps. He really had a lot of work to finish, and patted the cushion beside him, wrapping the soft blanket around his boy and pulling him close to his side. Before he opened his laptop, he made sure Daryl finished his tea, and rubbed the knots from a tense neck until he fell asleep nestled beneath his arm.  
  
  
  
Daryl awoke to the vigorous rustling of plastic bags, stiffly pushing himself upright to find Paul stealthily setting up his camera. Negan’s laptop lay abandoned beside him on the couch, his red cup waiting full of water on the coffee table, next to his phone and Paul’s page of squares with the red marker beside it. He rubs his eyes and reached for the cup, gulping the contents down and seeing that the clock read 4:33 when he picked up his phone.  
  
He heard Negan on the phone in another room, talking about business, and watched Paul as he absorbed himself in adjusting the tripod for a moment before checking his messages. He had a text from Paul, with photos attached, of a fully bricked-up entryway, accompanied by a red check-mark emoji and a question mark. He picked up the marker and took aim, bouncing it flawlessly off a pert butt cheek to get his attention.  
  
“Daryl! You scared me.” Paul seemed half-annoyed as he fished the marker out from where it rolled beneath the couch, flicking some dog hairs off of it before cozying up next to him on the couch to gaze at his masterpiece on Daryl’s phone. “Well?”  
  
Daryl shrugged, cringing a little as his neck was tickled by beard. “S’good.”  
  
“Kitten-square good?”  
  
Daryl sniffed and looked at the face close to his, that had just put him through a very annoying day. But at least it was done now, and they could have some fun. “Half.”  
  
Jesus furrowed. “What do you mean, half? There’s like, fifty squares on there already,” he gestured to the paper with all the annoying tiny-squares squeezed in along the bottom.  
  
“Depends what you got me,” Daryl mumbled, an impish smile curving his lips.  
  
Jesus grinned and nipped his shoulder, being shoved away immediately. “Cheeky puppy. You’ll see. No peeking!” He threw the blanket over Daryl’s head, covering him completely as he went back to staging the set. Daryl snorted and poked around on his phone in his blanket-tent until he heard Negan wrap up his call. Heavy footsteps re-entered the room and approached, before a weight settled into the couch next to him, kicking his heart into a giddy pace. Long, strong arms encircled him, trapping him securely while a deep, rich voice spoke directly against his ear.  
  
“Little pig, little pig, let. Me. In.”  
  
Daryl huffed and squirmed, instinctively clamping his thighs down on the hand that snaked beneath the blanket before spreading them submissively when he heard a melodious dark chuckle. “Kay,” he breathed quietly, lifting the blanket so that Negan could come inside, and seeing an irresistible smile spread across his face.  
  
“That’s not how it goes,” Jesus added from across the room as he flicked on all the lights. He returned to his camera to adjust the aperture and focus on the two men grinding heavily on the couch, a light quilt covering them from the waist-up. “Ooh, Daddy. Mind if I start rolling?”  
  
A puppy hand emerged to show him the middle finger before the kiss audibly broke and Negan spoke.  
  
“Do you need to sit in the chair again to think about why that’s a bad idea?” Negan’s hair was completely demolished when he emerged, slightly flushed.  
  
“I was kidding, sir.” Jesus crossed the room to smooth his dark locks back into place, leaning down to hide his adoring smile against a roughly-stubbled mouth that granted him a slow, delectable kiss as well.  
  
Daryl struggled to find his way out of the blanket, beet red with static-wild hair, wadding the entire thing in his lap to hide the annoying tent in his pyjama pants. Watching Negan and Jesus make out, he thought the whole video thing could really wait another hour or two, but Jesus broke the kiss, touched up Daryl’s hair and straightened his shirt, directed him to sit on the floor and hopped back to the camera to start recording.  
  
  
  
“Ladies and gentlemen, pups and puppies, welcome back! I hope you’re excited for this very special video, with two very special guests!”  Jesus moved away from the camera, revealing Negan, and Daryl surrounded by a half dozen Toys-R-Us shopping bags occupying places on the couch, the floor and on the small table. Negan gave the camera a friendly-enough wave, and Daryl, who leaned against his leg on the floor, watched Jesus take his place on the floor beside him, before turning his face slightly to poke his nose against Negan’s knee and receive a comforting pat.  
  
“As you all know, there has been a terrible loss in our lives recently; you may remember growing up to their jingles, or maybe you’ve only passed by their unmistakeable store, but everyone is familiar with the beloved retail giant whose sole focus has been on providing fun and games to children of all ages!”  
  
“And a few immature brats,” Negan jabbed, which made Daryl chuckle.  
  
“Ouch,” Jesus cowed dramatically, “someone’s already getting bored, it seems,” he laughed. “It’s true, though. I have zero self-control. That’s what daddies are for, right?”  
  
Negan cleared his throat. “Yes. And clearly, one of them can’t be trusted to do his job,” he pinned a cold stare directly into the lens, knowing that Rick would probably end up watching.  
  
Jesus had to bite back a sweet smile, very much glad that one of his dads caved to his whims when it was truly important. “Amen to that! In his defence, when I saw the signs up yesterday, I threw a bit of a tantrum. I just had to do a bit of poking around to see if there were any treasures left, and got a little carried away, so to make up for being so self-indulgent, today I’m here to share the goods!”  
  
While Jesus rustled through the bags for his first reveal, Negan tickled the back of Daryl’s neck, who didn’t once stop staring at the monitor, because seeing himself next to Negan in an unnaturally flipped reflection was both confusing and fascinating. He blinked when Jesus handed him a bag which contained something small and soft, as opposed to all the other bags that seemed to contain boxes of various sizes.  
  
“Could you give this to Daddy for me, please?”  
  
Daryl sat up straight and turned around, passing it up to him. “S’yours, sir.”  
  
Negan raised his brows, massively pleased by Daryl’s choice of words. “Is it? Thank you very much, how very thoughtful of you.” He could immediately tell it was a t-shirt, and dreaded all the possibilities as he pulled it out of the bag, but when he unfolded it and held it up he had to chuckle. “I love it.”  
  
Jesus gave the camera a giddy side-glance when Negan actually stripped off his shirt to replace it with the new one, in what was surely the YouTube show of a lifetime.  
  
“Look at that. What does it say, Daryl?”  
  
He instantly recognised the Bert-character from sesame street, and took a moment to process the words. “Says ‘Yes, I do mind,’” he said quietly, the back of his head entirely blocking the camera’s view.  
  
“Very good, boy,” Negan purred, pushing a raisin into his mouth and caressing his hair. “Now tell the people who watch,” he pointed towards the camera, a cheeky grin on his face when Daryl turned and allowed him to display it to the audience.  
  
He snorted again when he saw Negan’s boisterous grin, and awkwardly attempted to position his hands palm-up beneath the shirt in the viewfinder, while Jesus laughed whole-heartedly. Eventually they achieved a clear shot, so that he could continue.  
  
“Love it. Worth every penny. Thank you, sir.” He reached for another bag.  
  
“Thank you, Jesus. It’s very nice.” Negan chuckled, relaxing back into the sofa.  
  
“Well, you won’t like this one as much, but if anyone remembers the commercials, and if you’re one of the nine-in-ten kids whose parents had enough sense to say no to this, you’ll know why I just had to get it! Introducing, from Tyco, ” He tore the bag off, proudly holding his prize aloft. “Doctor Dreadful’s Zombie Lab! Where, in an epic role reversal, you eat the zombies!”  
  
Daryl scrunched his nose. Merle had stolen the bugs-version when they were kids, and he knew they didn’t even taste very good. “Disgustin’.”  
  
Negan grunted in distaste as well, looking entirely uncomfortable while biting back any commentary, because he had truly thought those carcinogen-dispensaries had been banned in the nineties.  
  
“Well, it’s not for you, and I’m not going to be eating them. This is going into the vault, to horrify collectors for generations,” he proudly informed his puppy-brother, before tossing it off to the side and reaching for the next bag and placing it in Daryl’s lap. “This one’s for you.”  
  
Daryl glanced warily at Jesus, then at the viewfinder, and down at the bag in his lap, while Tiger entered the shot to sniff at the bag, sitting obediently when Negan snapped his fingers. It was a beefy cardboard box, about the size of a VCR, and he could feel some little plastic parts rattling around inside. He blinked in surprise when he pulled back the bag, then held it up silently after a moment for the viewers and giving Paul a very surprised expression.  
  
“Isn’t it great? Do you remember those operation games?”  
  
Daryl nodded, looking a little bewildered, because he had some very mixed feelings about them. “Startled the crap outta’ me. This one’s cool.”  
  
Jesus’ face lit up at Daryl’s praise, agreeing completely. “I never even knew they had made this version. It’s called the T-REXcavator, get it?! And this one roars, instead of making that terrifying buzzing noise, so maybe it’s not so bad.”  
  
Negan groaned. “We get it. Don’t drop any pieces, or we’ll end up paying for a real operation to have them removed from Tiger’s guts.”  
  
“True. This is not for dogs, cats, or children under three years of age. We’ll be careful, right?”  
  
Daryl nodded. Extra careful, because he still didn’t want to make it roar. Jesus would surely laugh at him if he was startled. “Yeah. Thanks,” he said, in a not-very-friendly-sounding voice, but Jesus must have liked it, because he brushed the hair out of his eyes and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  
  
“This one’s also for you, and I actually think it would be fun.” Daryl was handed another, longer, slimmer box, that rattled as well.  
  
“Nice.” He already recognized it’s shape before he pulled it out of the bag, and actually felt a little excited, because he had learned to spell a lot of words by now. He turned to look at Negan and hand it to him, while Tiger sniffed at the box.  
  
“Scrabble, huh? We’ll need a crocheted tablecloth, and nightgowns.”  
  
Jesus giggled. “And tea. Come on, we can help puppy with his spelling! It’s the perfect balance of fun and quiet-time.”  
  
Negan raised a sceptical eyebrow, and had to grudgingly agree. “Alright, we’ll give it a go, but only if both of you can go a fucking day without any time-outs.” His heart threw up a little when Daryl seemed to light up as well as Paul, and gave the high-five that Paul was waiting for.  
  
“Yesss. It’s on!”  
  
“It sure is. Excuse me, boys.” Negan tousled two soft heads of hair when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket, and went to answer the call behind the closed door of his bedroom.  
  
“Thank you daddy!” Jesus called after him. “Well, looks like it’s just us, puppy. I’ll need you to close your eyes for this one.”  
  
Daryl appeared shocked, wondering if all of the silly gifts would be for him and immediately suspicious. “Why?”  
  
“Because, I want you to guess what this one is. Close your eyes, and hold out your hands.” Jesus winked at the audience, and Daryl squinted at him before obliging with an entirely grumpy face, holding his hands out far from his body in case it was something wet.  
  
A cylindrical, heavy and solid object was placed into his hand, and it felt already like a flashlight. He felt around for a button and found one, wondering if maybe it was one of those projectors that shone stars onto the ceiling at night. He clicked it on, and immediately the thing began vibrating in his hands, startling him into dropping it, and creating a loud buzzing noise against the floor. He immediately picked it up to turn it off, frowning at Jesus, who was laughing so hard he made no sound. The flash light had a weird little silicone mouth on it and it clearly came from the shop next door. It was kind of funny. He chuckled quietly while poking a finger into it’s mouth, seriously hoping it wouldn’t be wet inside.  
  
“Prick.” He felt his ears turn red, because Jesus was still gasping for air.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he wheezed, just as Negan returned from his call and sat down, taking the toy out of Daryl’s hands.  
  
“They sell these in a children’s store? Not surprised, considering the things kids are tweeting these days,” he mused, turning it on and threatening to give Daryl’s ear a kiss with it, causing him to laugh and duck away.  
  
“It was a joke, sir. You can keep it if you want, though, puppy.”  
  
“No, he may not. You’d better blur it out or you’ll get demonetized,” Negan added bluntly, hiding it behind a cushion before settling back in, patting Daryl’s head to lay against his thigh and fondly tracing the shell of an ear.  
  
“Luckily, I was never monetized. That’s right, friends, this content is 100% commercial-free, but if you want you can support me on patreon, ko-fi, or check out my merch in the link below!”  
  
Daryl sniffed, finding it odd but admiring the way Jesus knew how to perform for the camera.  
  
“Okay, Daryl, no jokes this time. Close your eyes again.”  
  
He sat up and obeyed, this time receiving a much smaller box, that felt a little bit weighty, before opening his eyes and looking very surprised to see the official Nintendo medallion and classic Nintendo Entertainment System logo on what had to be some kind of Game Boy. He turned it over, carefully reading the back of the packaging while Negan leaned over his shoulder out of curiosity.  
  
“Shit, boy, how much did you spend?”  
  
Jesus shrugged giddily, “not that much! Besides, he’s never played the 8-bit classics! It comes with literally every Mario game, Tetris, Donkey Kong,” he leaned his head on Daryl’s shoulder, “maybe we can take turns?” He wiggled his eyebrows.  
  
Daryl blinked at his close face. “Okay.” He shyly returned the small kiss because it really was a very special and exciting and probably-expensive gift, then turned to Negan to hand it over, because clearly this was a reward-level toy that he should have to approve.  
  
Negan sucked air through his teeth, a smirk of approval pulling at his mouth as he confiscated the naughty purchase. “Maybe you can earn some time playing with it, is that what you meant? You spend enough time staring at your phones, we wouldn’t want you brains turning to shit. Would you like that?”  
  
Daryl seemed okay with the idea, giving an excited nod while Jesus deflated next to him.  
  
“I guess, Sir. We still have a few bags left, you really don’t have to sit through the whole thing if-”  
  
“Oh, don’t worry about me.” Negan settled in smugly, opening up the brand-new retro-style Nintendo box for further inspection. He had liked the Jackal game, back in the day, and wondered if it was included. He also had no intention of letting any more ludicrous choices fly under the radar, like the holographic pink plastic karaoke machine, which gave him an immediate headache.  
  
“Return it.”  
  
“Sorry, daddy, no-can-do,” he replied all-too-cheekily, tearing into the box while Daryl sneered at the hideously girly packaging. Negan was having none of it.  
  
“We have a real one that cost me twenty-two-hundred downstairs. This atrocity stays at your parents’ house or it goes to goodwill.”  
  
The dining table ping-pong kit was also ridiculous, because he had still been planning to replace the one they broke by laying on it, he just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. The nerf guns and purple-and-pink nerf crossbow, that didn’t come in boy colours, that Daryl was totally allowed to paint, were also a bit much, but since Daryl was so confident he could kick both of their butts with it, purple or not, they were permitted to play with them after dinner, so long as they kept their rumpus to the C-wing.  
  
Lastly, Jesus warned his viewers, he had a very special surprise, hauling the largest bag into view.  
  
“Okay, Tiger! This is for you! Come on!”  
  
Daryl pushed the other toys aside to make space when he called the curious dog into the shot, almost as curious as the dog, and chuckling at Tiger’s reaction when a life-sized german shepherd plush was revealed, causing the real thing to wag his tail and bark. They had to encourage him to carry it off after smacking it with his paw a few times. They ignored Negan’s protests that there was nowhere to keep it, and cheered when he dropped it somewhere near his bed, and trotted back across the floor to bowl them over with dog-kisses and a wagging tail, nearly knocking the tripod over. Jesus joined Negan on the couch and ruffled Daryl’s hair while he examined the glittery crossbow, and Negan wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close for his send-off.  
  
“Well, that’s all, so thank you for joining us, and if you enjoyed this video, don’t forget to comment, like and subscribe!” He grinned when Negan tickled his ear, nudging him with a sharp shoulder. “Anything else, sir?”  
  
Negan cleared his throat, straightening up and pointing sternly toward the camera, “Don’t do drugs, and stay in school.” Daryl chuckled when Negan wrapped his arm around his chest to pull him upright, finally looking up from the toy to give the lens a quick wave while Jesus hopped off the couch.  
  
“Now turn off the computer and go outside! Go to the beach or something.”  
  
“You heard the man,” Jesus chuckled, far too close to the mic, before ending the recording.  
  



End file.
